Beauty and the Beast
by killerkitty15
Summary: Yao is a beautiful, intelligent teen on the fast track to college. Ivan is violent, dangerous, a beast who risks expulsion and prison if he doesn't get his grades, and his act, together. When Yao, who has always had a strange obsession with the intimidating Russian, agrees to tutor him, passion sparks between them and drama ensues, risking their chance at happiness.
1. Prologue

**This is a RoChu story that I really shouldn't be starting since I have so many work in progresses but...there's no stopping my head...there's just...no stopping it...**

**_Warnings: childhood, brief/vague violence, bullying_**

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><p><strong><em>Prologue <em>**

There was a boy. His father and step-sisters came from Europe, moving into a falling apart mansion in a small, multi-ethnic, American town. He never had many friends, because of his father's job, but the cute Chinese boy a couple blocks down was welcoming. The Chinese boy, in addition to four others, were his first friends but...that changed. All of a sudden no one wanted to be friends with him. Except for the Chinese boy, but that was alright since he liked that boy the most. His old "friends" began making fun of him, though, but he didn't care. He was happy. That was until they started making fun of his real friend, the Chinese boy, and they made him angry. He beat them up on the playground, which led to his friend being forbidden from seeing him. Without his only friend -his first friend, the only person that made him happy -he became violent, dangerous, unpredictable. He slowly descended into madness as he aged and grew lonelier as days, months, _years_, went by. He became a beast.

This is the story of how an intelligent beauty fell hopelessly in love with a violent, un-tame-able beast.

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><p><strong>Ok, so this is sorta short but it's just the prologue!<strong>

**Review and let me know if this interests you and if I should continue it**

**Sorry for the grammar mistakes, it's kinda late right now**

**Love y'all!**

**~kitty**


	2. Smitten With You

**Ok! So this is when the story actually starts sooo...I hope you enjoy~!**

**_Warnings: bullying, violence, yaoi, fluff, kinda fangirling/fanboying behavior_**

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><p><strong><strong>The title of this chapter is the title of the song <em>"Smitten With You"<em> by ****Nicole Dollanganger, which I suggest you listen to while reading this****

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><p><em><strong>Code:<strong>_

**POV CHANGE IS: ._._._.**

**SMALL/MEDIUM TIME SKIP IS: ~oOo~**

**PURPOSEFULLY COMBINED POVs ARE: THE LINES LIKE THE ONE BELOW**

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><p><strong><em>Chapter One<em>**

When Ivan woke up for the first day of his Senior year in high school, it was to a cold bedroom. They only had three bedrooms that could actually be lived in, his father taking one and Ivan leaving the other two to his sisters; when he was a child, he and his little sister would climb into their big sister's bed and lay their heads on her breasts, bigger than average even when she was fourteen. His was the attic, lacking proper insulation in the walls, but at least there was a roof that didn't leak. The thin walls were covered in fading wallpaper with brown and beige stripes and red roses, it was peeling so much that it was only Ivan's posters of bands, celebrities and the Russian flag that held it to the wall now. He had a dresser he had since he was a kid and had moved to the States - dark brown with star stickers on the sides, a new bed since the attic bed and his childhood bed were too small. His new bed had a thick, dark brown wood frame and heavy red, plaid flannel and navy blue cotton sheets while his bed side table and lamp had come with the house that had been built more than one hundred and five years ago.

The alarm on his cell blared and, angrily, he turned it off. He kicked the covers off his bed, squinting at the light that came in from his uncurtained windows, and not bothering to make his bed. He was just going to sleep in it again later. Ivan opened his drawers and got out a clean pair of gray boxers, black jeans that were slightly baggy and needed a belt to keep above his waist, a grey t-shirt with a white skull on it and a black zip up hoodie; all of which he put on before combing his beige-blonde hair, placing his black beanie over it and putting in his left earring and tongue piercing.

"Ivan, are you awake?"

"Da, Katyusha," he answered his voice still groggy with sleep as he ran a hand down his face. He opened the creaky door of his attic room, squeezing his big frame down the narrow stair case as he made his way to the second floor, walking past many inhabitable rooms -falling apart, decaying, construction sites or filthy -to the big, sweeping staircase, covered in plush, light blue carpet, that led to the bottom floor. The only floor that was completely remodeled was the bottom floor, where guests would see, but everything else was in complete disarray. The entrance hall, where the stair case ended, was filled with antiques and collectibles that had been in Ivan's family for years, covering the silver wallpaper and the dark wood floors.

Ivan turned to his left, entering a gaping arch way that lead to the parlor, the fancy one with light rose colored paint, dark wood floors, gold and cream themed furniture and a big fire place. There was a folded Russian flag encased in glass over the fire place in addition to more elegant antiques instead of the rustic ones in the entry way. It was his brother in law's, Ivan's father would say. He died for Russia. His second wife died of grief, he'd say. He walked through the parlor and through archway to the dinning room reserved for dinner and business parties -it had dark wood floors, green wallpaper with a gold leaf pattern, a long, dark wood table covered with a white table cloth and a wrought iron chandelier.

There was a small, swinging door that lead to the kitchen. That, too, Ivan went through, stopping when he saw Katyusha, his big sister, at the stove and Natalya, his little sister, at the small, round, kitchen table. It was big enough to sit four and, although their kitchen wasn't huge like every other room, it was a medium size like a normal house's kitchen, clean and modern with warm, butter colored walls and stainless steel appliances.

"Ivan, brother, good morning," Natalya said with a bright smile. She was fourteen with long, beige-blonde hair with a purple bow in her hair and a frilly purple dress, she was a Freshman and going to the same high school Ivan was, only she was located in the girls' section of the school. The classes were coed but lockers, gym classes, homerooms and health classes were located in opposite wings and separated by gender.

"Good morning," he greeted pleasantly but without a smile. He didn't like Natalya's creepy attitude, that boarded on stalkerish, toward him but she was still his sister; Ivan walked towards his older sister, who worked as a librarian part time while she went to a local community college. "Dobroye utro, sestra," _(Good morning, sister)_ he greeted kissing Katyusha's cheek. "I dobroye utro tebe tozhe, malyshka," _(And good morning to you, too, little on_e_)_ Ivan said with a gentle smile as he bent down and kissed the swell of his sister's pregnant belly.

The Ukrainian woman giggled, patting Ivan's head before hand him a plate of eggs, bacon and jellied toast. "Hurry up and eat, miy brat, it's your first day of school and you don't want to be late. Oh! Ivan, your bandages-!"

"In my pocket," he said taking his plate and sitting across his Belarusian half sister, "And I'm wearing scarf."

"Good," she hummed placing the dirtied dishes, pots and pans in the sink. She smoothed down her white blouse over her ample breasts and pregnant belly, and fixed how her hair tucked beneath her head band as she turned to face her siblings. "I have to get to the library, can you please hand me my sweater?"

"Here," Ivan said before Natalya could make a smart ass comment. He handed her the beige colored cardigan, watching her struggle to button it over her stomach, "Kat-."

"Alright! I must go, have fun at school!" she said kissing Natalya's cheek and fixing the bow on her head before kissing Ivan's forehead and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. As soon as she left, Ivan sighed, looking at his food with distaste.

"You don't like it?" Natalya asked.

"Nyet...I just don't want to go to school."

"I understand."

Ivan tried not to scoff. _Sure you do..._

._._._.

Yao woke up to the sound of his alarm clock, which was indicating he had to wake up for school. He pressed snooze, desperate to get five more minutes. He hadn't slept well, again, and he was starting to think the medication for his insomnia wasn't working. Alas, it was soon made apparent he wouldn't be getting an extra minute, definitely not even an extra five, once he heard footsteps clomping down the hall.

"_YAO_!"

"_ANIKI_!"

"_WAKE UP_!"

"I'm awake!" he exclaimed groggily, he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands; his door opened with such force that it slammed against the wall, revealing his adopted brother and sister, Young Soo and Mei, who were sixteen. They threw themselves at him, yelling loudly and pushing him backward onto his bed. "_Aiya_! What are you doing, aru?!"

"Waking you up!" Mei exclaimed with a happy little smile, "It's time for school!"

"Kiku already made breakfast!" Young Soo said excitedly, "Hurry!"

"Then let me up so I can get dressed!" Thoroughly scolded by their big brother, the two young teens left, closing Yao's door behind themselves. Yao sighed, rubbing his hands down his face and scowling as he felt no facial hair; he had gone through puberty and all, but he apparently had a gene that made it impossible to grow facial and chest hair as well as an unbelievably small amount of leg, arm and armpit hair. Combined with his slender figure -from the first few years of living in China and being under fed in the orphanage he lived in -Yao looked extremely feminine, a fact which he hated since he liked his hair long and people often mistook him for a girl. He stood up, pushing aside his thick, brown curtains to let in the early morning sunlight; it reflected off the mirrors and yellow painted walls in his room, making it seem brighter than it was and happier than Yao felt.

His room was painted yellow, his carpet cream colored and plush, there was a single window with brown curtains above a cherry wood desk, a red desk chair and a black laptop on the far wall, there was also a queen sized bed with a temperpedic mattress for his bad back, a cherry wood bed frame, a red, silk duvet with a golden dragon on it and black, cotton sheets beneath it on the left side, a cherry wood, night stand with an authentic, Chinese lamp and a cherry wood dresser on the right wall. The left wall was made entirely out of mirrors, from floor to ceiling. Yao reached into his dresser for a clean pair of black boxer briefs, dark wash, denim pants that only went to his knees, knee high, red socks, a white wife beater and a black and white, checkered pullover hoodie; he brushed his hair and put it up in a high, messy pony tail.

"_YAO_!"

"_AIYAH_! I'M COMING DOWN!" Yao shouted refusing to look at his reflection in any of the mirrors as he hurried down the hallway and the narrow staircase. He turned right, entering the living room -with beige walls, a black L shaped sofa, a glass coffee table, oak floors, a TV on a TV console and an evergreen, shag rug -and dinning room -with lavender and purple, horizontal striped walls, oak floors, a rectangular, white table and chairs, an indigo table cloth and a glass vase of white lilies in the center of the table -connected by an archway. Past that was the kitchen, which was a medium sized, not too modern, but clean and well kept. Mei, Young Soo, Kiku and Lei Siu were already sitting at the island, eating a small breakfast of toast, bacon and scrambled eggs.

"Ohayōgozaimasu, Yao," _(Good morning, Yao)_ Kiku greeted motioning to the seat next to him, a plate of food in front of it, "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh, shì de," he lied kissing Kiku's temple, "Oh, look, we match." Kiku was wearing black skinny jeans, black and white checkered Vans and a green pullover hoodie that said: 'I *heart* My Seme'."What's a seme, aru?"

Kiku blushed, clearing his throat. "It is just a Japanese thing."

"Hm, I see," Yao said, not believing the horrible lie for a moment, but deciding against pointing that out; after all, Kiku hadn't mentioned the older teen's sleep habits. "Are we all going to walk together, aru?"

"No, I got, like, a ride with a friend today," Lei Siu said texting quickly on his phone, a piece of toast hanging from between his teeth, "He should be" -_honk, honk_ -"oh, he's earlier than I expected. See ya later, Aniki." Lei Siu fixed his hair in the reflective glass of the microwave and straightened his clothes -a black t-shirt that said: 'RAWR! I'm a Spork!' with a picture of a spork, a purple under-armor shirt beneath it, black skinny jeans and black and gold Adidas hightops -before grabbing his worn, grey-green backpack.

"Bye, Lei Siu."

An eye roll, "Everyone calls me Leon, Aniki."

"Lei Siu is your name. Your name from _home_."

"This is America, Yao, _not_ China. Or _Hong Kong_," Lei Siu -'Leon' -said with another eye roll as he kissed Yao's cheek, as was an everyday tradition in their house, "See ya at school."

"Bye, Freshie~!" Mei and Young Soo called as Lei Siu left out the back door, walking through the back yard to the alley way where Emil, Emil's brother, his brother's boyfriend, Emil's cousin and his cousin's boyfriend were waiting in their battered, rusty, red car.

"You shouldn't tease him," the eldest sibling scolded, crossing his arms as he swallowed some scrambled eggs, "He's probably nervous!"

"_Whatever_," Mei sighed through her nose, picking up her plate, Young Soo's and Lei Siu's, and placing them in a sink, "I'm going to finish putting on my make up."

He watched her go, heart beating dully as he thought about how his siblings didn't need him anymore. _Great, now I'm tired AND sad..._ the Chinese teen thought, rubbing a hand over his face and over the dark circles beneath his amber colored eyes, _this day is already too long...it can only get worse..._

._._._.

Getting a wide birth in the hallways from students that feared him wasn't unusual for Ivan, nor was getting shoved around and jostled by the people that made his life hell. He walked to his locker, grey book bag heavy on his back as he put in the locker combo.

"Sup, fag?" someone said slamming his front half into his locker as they walked past. Another person giggled but a murderous glare from Ivan quickly made them shut up. No one liked him, not even the badasses of the school. The wimps didn't like him because he was terrifying and abusive when he didn't mean to be; and the partiers/badasses/outcasts didn't like him because he was too nice and not hardcore enough for them. Not even the drifters, who managed to have friends in multiple cliques, liked him because he didn't have any social skills.

He just sighed, placing his book bag in the locker and taking out the books possibly needed for his first three classes. His first class, Pre-Cal, went by excruciatingly slowly, as did his second period of AP Space Science, but -luckily -third period arrived, English, and Ivan was thankful. English IV was easy.

When Ivan got into the classroom, he smelt paint and lemon cleaner; judging from the art hung on the walls and the paint stained wooden tables instead of normal desks, Ivan knew it was the studio where Art classes are held. "Are you here for third period English?" a voice asked and Ivan saw it was a cheery Mr. Vargas.

"Da, sir."

"Fantastico!" the cheerful teacher exclaimed, clapping his hands together, "You're the first one here, so you can sit anywhere you like! I hope you don't mind class in the art room; I usually teach art and it was the only place left-."

"I don't mind," he said quickly, his voice deeper than his teacher's but quieter. Ivan took a seat at the second to last table on the right side, closest to the windows.

"Excellent!" the Italian man said with a big smile, beginning to riffle through papers, cabinets and folders, as more students filed into the room. Everyone came in small clusters, choosing to sit with their 'best friends' and close to each other. The badasses took over the back section, avoiding the seat next to Ivan -the badasses in Ivan's class consisted of: Arthur, Antonio, who were both glaring at each other, Lovino who was held protectively against Antonio's side, Ludwig and Lukas; the drifters were mixed in: Francis sitting next to Arthur, Daisy sitting next to her boyfriend -Ludwig -and Abel was by Lukas. The 'popular kids' were towards the middle: Alfred, Hercules sitting next to Francine, Alice sitting with Anya, Sadiq sitting by Jett and Roderich sitting by his girlfriend, Lili; the nerds were more upfront or on the sides: Matthias and Tino upfront, Raul and Michelle on the left and Toris and Eduard reluctantly sitting in front of Ivan -their bully. The bell rang. "Alright class, I'm-."

There were only two spots left, one to Ivan's right and one by Alfred's left, when the door slammed open with a breathy exclamation of: "_Aiyah_! I am so, so sorry for being late!"

._._._.

He knew he shouldn't have picked up his cellphone when his father, who had adopted Yao and all his siblings, called. Now he was late! _I'm screwed! I'm so fucking screwed!_ When he burst through the art room door, he felt everyone's eyes on him as he panted out his apology, his face heated in embarrassment as he shuffled his feet. _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! This is really embarrassing!_

"Hello Mr...Wang, is it?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Try not to be late to my class again, understood?"

"Shì de, Mr. Vargas..."

"Eccellente! You may have a seat next to Alfred or Ivan, now, Yao."

"Xièxiè nǐ, xiānshēng," _(Thank you, sir)_ Yao said with a small nod of his head; he looked up, seeing Alfred waving in his direction, but his eyes focused elsewhere. There. Sitting in the second to last row, by the windows, was Ivan. Yao hadn't forgotten their childhood friendship but he dared not to rekindle their friendship, afraid of how his parents would react. He wasn't scared of Ivan, though, although he knew what Ivan was capable of, his friends still had scars from when Ivan beat them up as children. No. Instead, Yao watched from a distance as the awkward, speck of a boy he once knew grew into a man. A man with a defined jaw, strong nose, lips that didn't look feminine even though they were full, a broad forehead covered with soft, shaggy hair that glinted in the sunlight, looking like golden snow, and big, childish, purple eyes framed by golden eyelashes and unkempt eyebrows; Ivan was tall with broad, masculine muscles, big hands and big feet, making him look like a bear or a lion. Even the black and grey outfit paired with a black beanie, black combat boots and white, gauze bandages wrapped around the Russian's neck was attractive. Ivan..._yes_, Ivan was sexy, strong, a dangerous animal -_and probably a beast in bed_, a small part of Yao suggested -but...Yao was drawn to him for a reason other than the physical, like moth to a deadly flame, and he couldn't help the chains that seemed to have a firm grip on his heart, his mind, as he completely ignored Alfred -with that smile that made every guy and girl swoon -and made his way to sit beside Ivan. "Hāi, Yīwàn," _(Hi, Ivan)_ he said with a shy smile, "How are you, aru?"

Ivan's head shot up so fast Yao was afraid he'd get whiplash, as the Chinese teen set his books down and sat beside the taller male; his purple eyes were wide, with what Yao deduced was disbelief, and his face was turning a light red color. _So adorable..._ "P-Privet, Yao, u-uhm, I am khorosho...how...how-how are you?"

_SO FUCKING ADORABLE!_ "I'm well, thank you for asking," Yao said feeling his own blush heat up his face -_now why am I blushing?!_ -as his smile got broader; he felt insanely -unreasonably -happy that Ivan had asked how he was. _But...then again...it was only social custom...it didn't mean anything._ Yao's smile almost dropped but he held it fast, not wanting Ivan to think his bad mood was due to him. "I look forward to working in class with you!"

"...And I you, podsolnechnoye."

Yao blushed even more, not knowing what that Russian word meant but hoping it was good.

._._._.

The Russian walked through the halls, towards the lunch room, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans.

"Hey, Commie!"

_Damn it._

"I said: hey, Commie!"

"I heard you the first time, obese swine," he said spinning on his heel to face the American. Ivan really didn't like insulting people, but this was _Alfred_. Alfred _Jones_. The bane of his existence.

Alfred scowled, placing his hands in the pockets of his red, denim shorts that went down to his knees. Alfred was dressed like all the other preppy, popular kids; today, he wore red shorts, a pale blue t-shirt, a dark blue, fleece sweater with a zipper that went one-forth of the way and rolled up to his elbows, a white, New York Yankees baseball hat on backwards and brown flip flop sandals. "Look, man, I'm just trying-."

"You never _just_ anything, Alfred," Ivan cut of with a scowl of his own, "Let us get straight to point, da?"

The American blinked, before he shrugged his shoulders and smirked. "Whatever, I was trying to be diplomatic but fuck that, right?" he chuckled before turning serious, "I saw Yao sitting with you today. You talkin' to him."

"So wha-?" Alfred's fist collided with his jaw, making an audible _pop_, and the Russian's sentence died in his throat.

"Look, you fucking pig, you stay away from him."

"Why do you care?" Ivan hissed, rubbing his jaw, "I thought you had a girlfriend. Or are you a fag like me?"

"Take that back," he growled, glaring warningly at the Russian.

"_Nyet_."

Alfred lunged, fists flying and connecting with their target; Ivan fought back, both teens ending up on the ground, in a tangle of flailing limbs and bleeding faces. The Russian snarled like an animal, refusing to let the ignorant asshole known as Alfred F. Jones best him, as he pushed Alfred onto his back, straddled him, and began punching his face and chest. He didn't think to stop, even when a crowd of blood thirsty teenagers gathered around him, cheering him on or booing. The fighting only stopped when three male teachers managed to pull Ivan off of Alfred and hold him back, another two male teachers hauling Alfred to his feet and keeping him back.

"Mr. Braginsky! My office! Now!" a high pitched shriek, that belonged to the female principle, made the students quiet down, "Unless you want to join Mr. Braginsky in my office, I suggest all of you go to lunch!" At her word, the students quickly retreated to the lunch room, leaving the principle to deal with Alfred and Ivan's fight. "Mr. Klise, Mr. Thomasson, please escort Alfred to the nurse's office. Mr. Richard, Mr. Khan, Mr. Elle, take Ivan to my office!" Ivan followed obediently with gritted teeth, and knowing that Alfred would not be punished at all.

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><p>Yao was distracted at dinner that night. Kiku had cooked again -their adoptive parents away on a business trip -so they ended up eating Japanese. Since they were all from different Asian countries, they all took turns cooking traditional meals from their home lands; when Kiku was cooking it was Japanese, with Young Soo it was South Korean, with Mei it was Taiwanese, with Yao it was Chinese and Lei Siu always cooked something from Hong Kong. Of course he had heard about what happened before lunch that day, he had heard the school gossip and he had heard his friend, Alfred's, side of the story; but, knowing Alfred, the American had a bad habit of getting into trouble, starting shit, and not facing the consequences. What Yao really wanted was to hear Ivan's side of the story...it wasn't like the Russian to get into a fight. Well, Yao shouldn't say that, since it happened at least once a week ever since Freshman year, but it didn't seem in Ivan's nature to fight without a good reason. Ivan was tough and strong and manly -<em>sure<em> -but he was also shy and sweet and too forgiving.

"Aniki, are you feeling alright?" Young Soo asked worriedly.

"Of course!" he huffed blushing in embarrassment and anger, "Don't put your elbows on the table! And don't talk with your mouth full! Aiyah, don't you have any manners?!" _Ivan didn't even get to see that we had Psychology together..._

Unknown to Yao, Ivan was in his bedroom -dinner already eaten -thinking about the Chinese boy. He thought about how Yao's pale cheeks had glowed a faint pink, how his amber eyes held such an extreme warmth and approach-ability that Ivan had never known nor felt before. Yao had smiled at him and laughed that beautiful, twinkling laugh of his. Of course, Ivan had seen that smile and laugh falter, had hoped it wasn't because of him, but he knew Yao wasn't like that. Yao didn't sit by people or hang out with people he didn't like or, at least, tolerate. Dressed in his purple, plaid, pajama pants, Ivan hugged his pillow close to his bare chest and smiled happily. _That means Yao tolerates me!_ That was the most amazing thing that had happened to Ivan in a long time and Ivan couldn't contain his happiness, giggling and laughing stupidly and with abandon.

Ivan really, _really_ hoped Yao would continue to tolerate him. And, even though Ivan knew it was an impossible dream, he hoped that Yao would some day grow beyond just tolerating him...maybe...maybe, one day, Yao would be his friend! _That would be wonderful..._ Ivan thought as he laid down to go to sleep. "Good night, Jao..." he whispered into the cold darkness of his room.

Yao, on the other hand, was hoping that -one day -Ivan would look upon him with something more than shy friendliness. He hoped..._God_, he hoped that one day Ivan would look at him with lust filled eyes, love filled eyes, hold and caress his body in ways that were both shy and rough. Yao flushed, nether regions heating up as he thought of how big Ivan's hands were, how they had calluses from physical labor, and how good they'd feel touching his sensitive skin; he pressed his back against the wall of mirrors that the side of his bed was pressed against, letting it cool his fervor. He wanted Ivan to look at him as a lover, a boyfriend, not some old acquaintance or an old friend that had drifted apart. The Chinese teen bit his lip, feeling silly as he whispered: "Good night, Yiwan..." into the shadows of his bedroom and hoped that, somehow, Ivan could hear it.

Neither one of them slept every well that night.

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><p><strong>Omg that took me DAYS!<strong>

**Phew...I'm glad I got that done...now to work on the other BIGILLION stories I'm working on...shut up, spell check, bigillion is tots a real word...**

**As always, I hope you didn't mind the grammar/spelling errors or the very obvious language errors since I don't know Chinese or Russian. Only English *insert sad face***

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><p><span><em><strong>Characters:<strong>_

**Ivan (Russia)**

****Yao (China)****

_****Ivan's Family:****_

**Natalya (Belarus)**

**Katyusha (Ukraine)**

_**Yao's Family:**_

**Young Soo (South Korea)**

**Mei (Taiwan) **

**Kiku (Japan)**

**Lei Siu/Leon (Hong Kong)**

_**The "Badass" clique (consisting of goths/rebels/tough guys/that sort of thing):**_

**Arthur (England) (in reference to his pirate days which were so obviously badass)**

**Antonio (Spain) (in reference to his pirate/conquistador days as well)**

**Lovino (South Italy/Romano) (in reference to his mafia/because Spain is his boo-thang)**

**Ludwig (Germany) (because he's hot as a badass)**

**Lukas (Norway) (...again, because he's hot as a badass)**

_**The "Drifters" (people who get along with everyone and make enemies with everyone and don't really have a clique):**_

**Abel (Netherlands) (because he's a pot head and pot heads get along with everybody)**

**Francis (France) (do I have to explain this?)**

**Daisy (Nyo!Italy) (Ludwig's girlfriend because, sadly, it's unrealistic if everyone's gay *insert sad face here*)**

_**The "Popular" clique (the clique consisting of cheerleaders/any dude that's good in a sport/any girl good in a sport/dicks/rich people):**_

**Alfred (America) (don't require explanation)**

**Hercules (Greece) (cause he's chill)**

**Francine (Nyo!France) **

**Anya (Nyo!Russia)**

**Alice (Nyo!England)**

**Jett (Australia) **

**Sadiq (Turkey) (just because they're in the same clique, doesn't mean Greece and Turkey like each other)**

**Roderich (Austria) **

**Lili (Liechtenstein) (because she's a sweetie pie)**

_**The "Nerd" clique (anyone smart/into stereotypical geeky things/meek):**_

**Matthias (Denmark) (BECAUSE I THINK IT'S CUTE GODDAMN IT!)**

**Tino (Finland)**

**Raul (India)**

**Michelle (Seychelles)**

**Toris (Lithuania) **

**Eduard (Estonia) (pffffffftttt total nerd)**

_**Teachers:**_

**Mr. Vargas (Roman Empire)**

**Mr. Klise, Mr. Thomasson, Mr. Richard, Mr. Khan, Mr. Elle and the principle lady (OC)**

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><p><strong>okkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk that's it<strong>

**Please review and tell me how i did**

**I love you and it's time for me to sleep**

**(have any of you seen Maze Runner in the theater? So much material for a yaoi writer such as myself~~~~) **

**Love ya and REVIEW please!**

**~kitty**


	3. Devastation and Reform

**Ooooooooohh what's this? This, my friends, is chapter DOS!**

_**Warnings: hints of family abuse, violence, dick faces, distructive decisions, probably badly translated English to another language, bad spelling/grammar in English even though that's the language I speak**_

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><p><strong>Title of this chapter is based off the song "Devastation and Reform" by Relient K<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Two<strong>_

Ivan, almost a month into the school year, was lead to the principle's office for the fifth time. This time it was by one of the male teachers who had restrained him during his first fight of the year, the one he had gotten into with Alfred. His face was cold, blank, and in a neutral position as the male teacher walked with him into the woman's office. It smelt of lemon cleaner and the perfume that all ladies over sixty seemed to wear. Over all, it wasn't a completely unpleasant smell and Ivan had been in the office so many times that it was as familiar to Ivan as the smells and scents that permeated the air in his own home. He walked past the receptionist -an old woman with powdery, white hair, soft, wrinkled skin, slender, snarled hands that shook with tremors no matter what she was doing, a frail, hunched over frame and rectangular, pink glasses that made her eyes seem magnified and owlish -who glared at him disapprovingly as he past, and entered the principle's office with out knocking or asking for permission. The walls were the color of egg shells, covered in pictures of the principle's family, the graduating classes from past years and various diplomas, the carpet was beige, the principle's desk was light colored and covered with a computer, various office supplies and desktop thingies. There was a red leather love seat crammed into the corner by the door, two red padded chairs facing the desk and the principle sitting in a high backed, black, swivel chair. She had her wavy, brown thick hair in a high pony tail, a bright white blouse that contrasted sharply with her olive colored skin, a grey pencil skirt, a matching jacket and black heels. Ivan knew there were grey strands of hair hidden skillfully in her ponytail and there was nothing the woman could do about the lines around her eyes and mouth that gave away her age of forty five.

She looked up from her paper work, raising her eyebrow as she leaned back, shuffled the paper work into a neat pile in the corner of her desk and folded her hands on the desk table top. "Mr. Braginsky."

"Mrs. Karpusi."

"Here again, I see?" she asked with a sarcastic lilt.

"Da."

"What is your excuse this time?"

Ivan scowled, stepping forward into the comfortable room and sitting in one of the chairs that were across Mrs. Karpusi's desk. "Should I bother? You don't care either way."

The Greek woman's face softened. the hard lines of seriousness and professionalism softening into something beautiful, charming and a facial expression that only a person who had known parenthood could pull off. The lines smoothed out, her face and posture relaxing, even the grip with which she held her folded hands eased up. "Ivan...you know that is not how I feel," she said softly, "However, you can't keep doing these things! Getting into fights and letting your grades drop won't be good on college applications; you're graduating this year, and you must focus on your studies-."

"It is not my fault!" he suddenly roared, flinching back when she had stretched out a hand to touch him, "It is their fault! I mind my own business but they hit me and insult me, they anger me! I won't be humiliated in such ways! I am not my-!" Ivan cut himself off, his words dying in anxious shock and horror, rotting away and decaying in the back of his throat.

"You are not your wha-?"

"_Nothing_!" Ivan snapped shoving away from her desk and making a pen holder and picture frame topple over. "It is nothing! Shut up and don't speak to me!"

Mrs. Kapusi retreated, leaning back in her chair and away from the Russian. "Ivan, honey, you must understand the seriousness of your situation. If you do not improve your grades, then you will not go to college: you will not have a bright future, nor a successful one. I will be forced to expel you! If you do not stop these fights, the violence, I will be forced to contact the police! Do you want to go to prison, Ivan? Right now, that is your future. I don't want that for you, Ivan, and I would hope you wouldn't want that for yourself."

Ivan paled, bending down to retrieve a pen that had fallen from the pencil holder in order to hide his shock and fear. He didn't want to go to prison, risk deportation*. The prisons in Russia were terrifying, awful hell holes and his sister, his darling, big sister Katyusha, was so close to having her baby. Ivan wanted to be there and witness it, hold her hand because her mother could not, cut the umbilical cord because the father of her child would not, support her and help her raise her baby because their father -the father of Katyusha, Ivan and Natalya -would not. Personally, Ivan didn't care what happened to him. All he wanted was to live for Katyusha, be the shoulder for her to lean on after she had mothered him so honestly and whole heartedly during their younger years.

"Do you understand me, Ivan?"

"Da. I understand."

"Good," she breathed, straightening her back and retrieving her professional posture, "because I must now call your sister."

"_Katyusha_?! Nyet! Why would you fucking do that?!" Ivan boomed rising to his feet so fast he had knocked his chair over on accident, "She is at work-!"

"You're father is still away on business, right? Then I have no other choice."

Ivan fisted his hands together, spewing insults and profanities at her for nearly an hour before he was escorted out of her office.

~oOo~

Ivan clutched his book bag to his chest, the gauze protecting his fragile neck making him itch but he dared not touch it, as he sat in the passenger side of his sister's car. His sister was silent, staring straight ahead with both hands on the wheel. "Ivan-."

"-Katyusha."

They both paused, having started at the same time. "Ivan, I'd like to speak first. That is, if you don't mind!"

"...go ahead."

"Ivan, miy molodshyy brat, you cannot keep doing this!" Katyusha suddenly cried, sounding close to tears, "Y-You will be sent to prison and maybe deported! Expelled from school! Why are you doing this, Ivan? I know you are a sweet boy, miy solodkyy, malenʹkyy khlopchyk, and I know that you have...anger. Anger rooted deep in your heart, but you cannot hold onto it forever. What nash batʹko has done-."

"Katyusha, please! I don't want to talk about that..." he whispered hiding his face in the material of his backpack.

It was silent as the car slowly rumbled to a stop and Ivan realized that they were now in the driveway to their house. "Ivan..." The Russian looked over, his eyes widening in horror as he saw his big sister with her hands pressed to her eyes as her shoulders shook with sobs. "I-Ivan...I-I-I'm sorry! I haven't-haven't been around much an-and I kno-ow I'm not a good sis-siste-er-!"

"No, Katyusha, don't say that!" Ivan exclaimed, throwing his book bag by his feet and unbuckling his seat belt, he leaned over and wrapped his arms around Katyusha's shoulders. He pulled her head onto his chest, brushing her short hair away from her wet cheeks and rubbing her back. "I'm sorry. YA sozhaleyu, sestra, prosti menya. YA znayu vse, chto ya delayu, eto tebe bol'no, no ya obeshchayu, vse, chto ya khochu sdelat', eto zashchitit' vas." _(I'm sorry, sister, forgive me. I know all I do is hurt you but, I promise, all I want to do is protect you)._

"I-I-."

"Nyet, you don't need to speak," he said tightening his hug on his sister, "I will do better" -he kissed her forehead -"promise."

~oOo~

Unfortunately, Ivan's promises had always been as short as his temper.

The next day at school, Ivan was confronted by Alfred and, strangely, the Bad Touch Trio. Alfred wore his bomber jacket, white Bulls jersey, light blue jeans that looked new and red-white sneakers, he was leaning against Ivan's locker. Francis stood next to him talking animatedly with his hands, dressed in his normal preppy, high fashion, inexpensive style of an indigo pullover sweater, black jeans and blue converse, hightops. The scar Ivan had inflicted upon the Frenchman's face -from his earlobe, following Francis' jawline to a centimeter from the corner of his mouth -was covered by the man's facial hair but still painfully visible. Antonio and Gilbert were there, too, laughing but not participating in the conversation all that much.

_Fuck_.

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Ivan walked forward, gripping his book bag strap tighter. "Alfred, you know that is my locker."

"So, commie?" Alfred taunted with a cocky grin. Ivan noticed how Francis had paled and took a step away from him, fingering the scar on his jaw absent mindedly.

"Move."

Alfred paused, watching Ivan smugly as he shrugged and stepped out of Ivan's way. "That's what your sister said _all_last night," he whispered as he passed by the Russian.

Every muscle in Ivan's body seized and he spun around, his jaw twitching. "_What did you say?!_"

Alfred smirked, sickeningly pleased with himself. "You heard me."

"Alfred...mon ami, per'aps you shouldn't-."

"Shouldn't _what_, Francis?" Alfred hissed stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he turned glaring harshly at the Frenchman, "Do you forget what he did to us? Your face?!"

Francis flinched, his finger tips trailing along the scar tissue. "Of course I 'aven't..."

"Then why the fuck are you questioning me?!"

"Alfred, dude-."

"I'm letting you fucking date my brother, Gilbert, do you really want that to end?!"

Gilbert shut his mouth, bowing his head before turning around and walking away stiffly. The look of guilt and pity was quickly covered by cold indifference.

"Let's go, amigo," the Spaniard said grabbing Francis' wrist, "Alfred...can do this himself. Ivan can take care of himself."

"Oui, zhat zounds like a brilliant idea."

They left, leaving Ivan alone with Alfred. "...Take back what you said about Katyusha."

"About Kat?" Alfred chuckled without remorse, the Russian flinching at the use of his sister's nickname that shouldn't have even passed Alfred's lips. "Why should I? It's true. Your sister's a whore!"

Ivan didn't think. He couldn't think. All he heard was Alfred's laughter muffled under the blood rushing and gushing in his ears, his heart beat pounding, all he could see was red starting to make his vision hazy and corrupted, all he could think, feel, see, hear, was red. Anger. Hatred. Pure, unrestrained, anger and hatred. He couldn't...he promised...but, no. _No_! Katyusha would never know or understand but Ivan could live with that.

_I want to hear Alfred squeal like the fat swine he is._

Ivan punched him in the jaw, in the side of the head, the eye, his stomach, ribs, chest. He didn't even notice when Alfred had managed to hit him back, bruising his face and chest, making his lip and nose bleed.

_Katyusha...sestra, I'm sorry. Prosti menya._ (Forgive me).

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><p><strong>*American law says that any immigrant, even if they have a green card, can be deported no matter how long they have been in the United States. Immigrants risk deportation for any crime if it is serious enough. For this story, Ivan is afraid he'll be deported to Russia (the place where he was born and where he had original citizenship) if he is charged for the physical battery (physical assault) on Alfred.<strong>

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><p><strong>PHEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW<strong>

**ALRIGHT! I'm done~!**

**I hope you guys liked it and I would REALLY appreciate it if you guys left me reviews to let me know how I'm doing, to let me know if you guys like the direction this is going, etc**

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	4. Touch

**Ok, so, this is the third chapter and this is sorta when the relationship between Yao (China) and Ivan (Russia) REALLY kicks off.**

**I know this is going kinda slowly right now, the plot building up and all that, but pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase review? They really mean a lot to me**

_**Warnings: mentions of violence, yaoi, fluff, drama**_

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><p><strong>Title of this chapter is based off the song "Touch" by Shura<strong>

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><p><strong><em>Chapter Three<em>**

Ivan stood outside the building. It was made out of beige, concrete blocks that were half of Ivan's arms length in width and from foot to knee in vertical height; the roof was grey slate, eight windows on the front of the building, a red, double door, there was a cherry blossom tree by the three step staircase and bunches of white chamomile and yellow daisies in the flower boxes beneath the windows. It had rained that morning and it was foggy and crisp, making the library look more intimidating then it should've been. The Russian took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out as a sigh through his mouth and trying to reign in his courage.

"You can do this..." Ivan mumbled to himself, pulling his faded, pink scarf up to his nose and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket that he only used during the fall. His insides felt like worms and moths, flying and wiggling around in his lower intestine and stomach, a lump bobbing in his throat. How did it come to this?_ Oh, right, that bitch..._

_... ... ... ..._

_Flashback:_

_Mrs. Karpusi's back was straight, her face stern and her gaze indifferent as she stood beside Ivan, a male teacher at the ready in case the unpredictable Russian decided to, well, become violent. "Class, I have an announcement."_

_"It's not like anyone could stop you," Mrs. Hassan said crossing her arms and leaning back on her desk, her short, clean cut, black hair and circular, gold earrings swung against her tanned, exotic face._

_Mrs. Karpusi and Mrs. Hassan shared a glare filled with dislike, as Mrs. Karpusi rubbed her hands together and took a deep, calming breath. "And, thank you, Mrs. Hassan," she said after sucking on her teeth, "Anyway, Mr. Braginsky, here, got into a fight with Alfred Jones a few days ago" -some of the class snickered -"and, to avoid expulsion, Ivan has agreed to be tutored by one of you to improve his grades." A pause. "Who would like to be Mr. Braginsky's psychology tutor?" Silence fell over the class, students coughing awkwardly and looking at each other incredulously. "Come on now!"_

_Ivan felt his cheeks burn, anger mixing in with the extreme embarrassment he felt. He felt the male teacher shift behind him, sensing the Russian's spiraling mood. _How dare she do this to me?!_ Ivan thought, _who does she think she is?! She has absolutely no-.

_A hand was raised. "I-I'll do it, miss!"_

_Ivan's head whipped around and his eyes widened as he saw Yao holding his hand up as high as he could. He blushed, looking down at his shoes. _

_"Mr. Wang, do you have good grades in this class?"_

_"Of course he does," Mrs. Hassan said glaring at the Greek woman, "He's my top student."_

_"I believe I asked Mr. Wang."_

_"Yes, Mrs. Karpusi," Yao hurriedly said before directing a bright smile in Ivan's direction, "and I wouldn't mind helping Ivan out a little, too."_

_:Flashback end_

_... ... ... ..._

That was how Ivan ended up standing outside the library at three in the afternoon, hesitantly walking up the stairs unfortunately quickly; he pushed open the red door, greeted by low whispers, the clicking of fingers on keyboards and the smell of paper and books. The walls were white, the kid section painted yellow with cartoon animals and fantasy creatures on the walls, the carpet was blue-ish and there were two desks: a front desks and a research desk. "Ex-Excuse me..." he said walking up to a librarian at the front desk, she was a heavy woman, maybe in her mid forties, with short brown hair, circular glasses that reminded Ivan of Harry Potter and a hideous pink sweater with a giant cat face on it, "I was wondering if you saw a boy. My age, Chinese, long brown hair, pretty-."

"Oh, yes," she said in a nasally, but sweet, voice, "He scheduled one of the private research rooms for you two." She winked at the end of the sentence, making Ivan blush as he chuckled and, thanking her, moved to the back rooms. There was only two that were unlocked, one containing a man covered in tattoos and receiving..._an oral favor_ from his lady friend in a halter top and tight booty shorts; Ivan quickly shut their door and went to the other one. There, Yao was already sitting down and getting his tutoring materials ready. He really didn't want to interrupt the peaceful, dream like state Yao seemed to be in, the Chinese looking entirely too cute in his white washed skinny jeans, his black converse, white long sleeved shirt and red, silk scarf around his neck with the pattern of a dragon in gold thread, a green piece of sequence as its eye.

"...Yao?"

The smaller male jumped, spinning around with wide eyes; recognizing Ivan, he calmed and, pressing a hand to his heart, he smiled. "_Aiyah_, Ivan!" Yao said between tinkling laughter, still coming down from his sudden scare, "Don't sneak up on me! You nearly killed me!"

"Sorry..." he apologized with a small smile, walking into the small, box like room and shutting the door behind him. "We should get started right away, da?"

"Oh! Yes! Of course!" Yao stuttered blushing in an adorably nervous way; he tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind his ear, looking at the Russian out of the corner of his eye as he smiled, "We should start with the parts of the brain, first, then get into what we're learning now, ok, aru? And I brought snacks in case we get hungry!"

"That is sweet of you, Yao," the blonde teen said, returning Yao's smile with one of his own. Ivan didn't smile much -the dark haired teen knew this -but his smile...when he did, smile that is, it was gorgeous; his smile was handsome, brightening his face and making his youth shine like a diamond in the sunlight, and shockingly genuine its abundance of joy and tender affection, "Thank you."

Yao only blushed harder, his ivory colored cheeks burning and his heart fluttering like a rabbit on steroids. Swallowing thickly, and taking out the diagrams of the human brain he had received in class, he showed them to Ivan. "Ok, let's start with the Abdulla oblongata."

~oOo~

Thirty minutes later, the Chinese teen leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. "Alright, let's stop there for now," he said listening to his vertebrae pop before yawning and rubbing the kinks in his neck, "Are you hungry, aru? Would you like some snacks?"

"If you don't mind," Ivan said quietly, a shy smile on his lips as he leaned back.

"Of course I don't!" Yao beamed at the Russian teen, making Ivan blush.

The blonde couldn't keep himself from watching as Yao's upper body twisted so he could bend down to open his back pack; Ivan's eyes zoomed in on the back bones visible between the thin cotton of the brunette's shirt, delicate shoulder blades shifting as Yao dug around in his bag and the shirt riding up to expose the elegant, teasing, curve and dip of the small of Yao's back. Ivan licked his lips, fisting his hands to curb the urge to touch. After years and years of watching Yao -from the side lines, of course -go from too skinny, malnourished from when he still lived in China, little kid to a gangly, awkward, pimple faced boy going through puberty to the perfect, Chinese deity that he was as a teen, Ivan wanted to touch Yao. It felt like he was a lowly, mortal, worship to an immortal god, wanting to touch his savor, his beloved -although he'd currently describe his feelings and thoughts as "wishful thinking" and "obsessed" -but unable to. He wished that he and Yao were still friends, still close, not forced apart, so that Ivan could find _some_ excuse to touch him. Ivan wanted to let his finger tips linger on Yao's lower back, slide up his soft looking skin to feel each individual vertebrae, nuzzle his face in between Yao's shoulder blades; he wanted to do all those things and more, to run his fingers through the long, brown-black hair, feel Yao's rabbit heart beat beneath his ear, feel his cupid's bow, rose petal lips beneath his. He wanted to know if Yao was as delicate as he looked or made up of diamond and steel will -probably the latter -or if Yao was loud and spirited in bed as he was in life or would he mewl and submit like a little kitten -probably a mix of the two. He wanted to know every part of him, his personality, his body, everything. _Everything_.

Yao straightened his back, zipping his book bag closed and placing the snacks on the table. "I-I didn't know what you would like..." he stammered, awkward at first but smiling good naturedly, "So I have chocolate chip cookies, mini chocolate donuts, sunflower seeds, Ho-Ho's and...um...salt and vinegar potato chips! Oh, and you have the choice of root beer or orange Fanta!"

"I'll have the orange soda and the cookies. If you don't mind."

"No, no," Yao giggled handing Ivan the cookie package and one liter soda bottle, "I thought you'd want these, anyway."

"...isn't eating in the library against rules?"

A mischievous glint was in the dark haired teen's eyes and a sly smile spread across his face, drawing Ivan's gaze to his lips as those lips were bit and sucked in mock contemplation. "_Yeessss_," he hummed twirling the stray lock of hair, that he had tucked behind his ear previously, around his index finger, "But it's not breaking the rules if they don't find out."

Ivan chuckled, "I suppose."

This was not like Yao, the Chinese teen himself knew this, but he really wanted Ivan to feel comfortable; he wanted to go out of his way to impress Ivan, give him food and tutor him for as long as the Russian needed. Yao had been so nervous that morning too, waking up extra early and practically tearing his closet apart in order to find something suitable to wear, to make himself look handsome -because he was a man, goddamn it, and men were not cute! -and attractive; after all, Ivan looked good without even trying, wearing a faded, pink scarf worn thin in some places, black combat boots, a white t-shirt, slightly baggy, brown jeans held up by a black belt, a black hoodie and a well worn leather jacket. "Ivan," Yao said absent mindedly as his eyes locked on the blonde-beige hairs curling around Ivan's collar, "do you read, aru?"

"...I-I do, da," the Russian admitted with a shy blush, he looked away from Yao as he brought the Chips Ahoy cookie to his mouth, "I love to read some classics, like Emily Dickinson and Hawthorne, but mostly Russian authors like Kantemir, Trediakovsky, Karamzin and Derzhavin. I also like Bella Fitzpatrick, John Green, Truman Capote, Kergan Edwards-Stout...I'm rambling, aren't I? The point is...I really enjoy reading."

When Ivan was talking, a smile had formed on the Chinese teen's face, only getting wider as the other teen had ranted. "You have good taste in literature, Yiwan," he said, a broad smile on his face, "Many of those authors I know well, including Derzhavin, but when it comes to classics, I tend to sway towards Chinese literature."

"Understandable. You are Chinese, after all."

"I'm glad you didn't think I was Japanese! Aiyah, I can not tell you how many stupid, bitch ass, white boy, Americans have mistaken me as Japanese! It is so annoying!" Yao lamented, throwing his head back and groaning in annoyance, throwing his arm over his eyes.

Ivan chuckled, patting the Chinese teen's knee, "It is alright, da? Americans wouldn't know the difference between a dick and a Twinkie unless you slapped a label on it." The dark haired teen looked at Ivan, incredulous, until he burst out laughing; he was amazed and highly amused, tears pouring from his eyes and his hands gripping his abdomen as it cramped from laughter.

"_Oh-Oh my god_, Ivan!" he wheezed, "That-That -_oh my god_ -that was hi-_hilarious_!"

The Russian blushed, giggling along with Yao and glad that he found someone in this small town that he could playfully insult America around. The others were way too protective of this country, even though they were the most judgmental of it. "...Yao, do you like to watch movies?"

It took a while for the other male to regain control over himself, a smile still on his face as he rubbed at his eyes with his wrist. "I do, I do," Yao giggled, "I've seen some of the more recent ones, like The Underneath and the Fault in Our Stars-."

"I love that movie!" the Russian interrupted with a happy sheen to his eyes, "I watched it with my sisters and I had to deal with all the tears-!"

"Oh, me too!"

"Did you cry, Yao-Yao?"

Yao blushed, "I-I -of course not!"

"I bet you did," the taller teen said with a smirk, "I bet you and your siblings all hugged each other and cried~."

"A-Aiyah, _nooo_!" he insisted, his face lighting up red like a traffic light, he picked up a paper cover notebook and began hitting the Russian over the head with it, "I was not crying!"

"_Da! Da!_" Ivan said trying to keep himself from laughing, but failing miserably, "Of course you didn't Yao! You are as swift as a coursing river, with all the force of a great typhoon, all the strength of a raging fire and as mysterious as the dark side of the moon!"

"Aiyah, did you just quote Mulan at me?!"

"...perhaps."

Yao couldn't hold onto his frustration and embarrassment, instead just blinking at the teen he was tutoring. That was, until he broke out into laughter for a second time that day. The same tear inducing, stomach clenching laughter. "I-I can't believe you just-" he couldn't even finish the sentence, he was laughing so hard, hiccupping and gasping through his tears and laughter.

He smiled at the cute, pinched look of Yao's face as the smaller teen laughed himself to tears and hysterics. "I like your laugh, Yao-Yao," the blonde said, "it's really cute."

A blush coated his cheeks for the second time, Yao met the Russian's gentle gaze. While the gaze was gentle, those violet orbs, while gentle, held an inner glint of something that made Yao's spine tinkle and fight the urge to lean over and kiss the taller, broader male. Every look Ivan gave him seemed sensual! "W-We should go back to studying..." he said, pressing a hand to his hot face and turning his face away.

"Da," Ivan said with a smirk that let the other know that Ivan knew exactly what he was doing, "we should."

From the door way, a blonde with striking green eyes hidden behind wire frame glasses, watched the teens. He was their classmate and, if they had seen him, they would've acted different; but they didn't recognize him in his frumpy sweater and sweatpants, glasses half way down his nose, the only thing that would've tipped off the teens in regards to this male's identity, were the bushy eyebrows and the Union Jack earrings hanging from his earlobes. Arthur watched from the door way for a moment, biting his lip before walking away, the books he had been meaning to study and read and annotate to an almost Obsessive Compulsive extent, held tightly to his chest. He sucked on the ball piercing on his tongue, digging in his pocket for his white cellphone covered in black, blue and green sharpie and stickers. With a shaky breath, and an unnamed anxiety, he texted Alfred, "Yao & Ivan are at the library together FYI...may want to do something about that". Arthur made his way back to the main part of the library, where all the books were and where most of the tables and computers were.

"Lapin?"

Arthur blushed, spinning around to glare at the shocked Frenchman, "F-Frog?!"

"Eet eez a pleasure meeting 'ere," he said smoothly, tucking a long strand of golden hair behind his ear, an honest, genuine, smile on his face, "W'at are you doing? A project?"

"I -n -yes, I guess...I assume, rather," Arthur stammered as he looked down at his Converse, wishing that he had dressed better that day. Francis was jut so..._perfect_, even in his black, track pants and old, lightly stained, grey t-shirt.

The older teen nodded, "Work on eet wizh moi? We can 'elp each ozher, oui?"

He blushed, speechless as he eased himself into the seat next to Francis, where the Frenchman was seated far away from internet and surrounded by books. His cell phone buzzed but he ignored the bloody thing as Francis shifted closer, putting his left arm over the back of the Brit's chair. This was too good of an opportunity to give up.

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><p><strong>Sorry for any grammarspelling mistakes**

**I legit fell asleep at my computer while writing this sooooo...yeah, sorry **

**I love you ALL so please make sure to review for me, kay?**

**Any questions: PM me or leave them in the review section thingie and I'll get to them. **

**Oh! And I do apologize for the slow built up, etc, etc. **

**Love you~!**

**~Kitty**


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